Foreign Recruit
by S.S.AERIAL
Summary: Ichigo doesn't know where to start. He has no friends, no family, no personal attachments to the world he got dumped into. The Soul King never specified what he was supposed to do in a world where technology is ahead of its time and aliens and secret governments exist. As for the people he has to deal with… Well, it isn't like he hasn't dealt with colorful personalities before.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in Avengers or Bleach.**

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><p><strong>Summary: <strong>Ichigo doesn't know where to start. He has no friends, no family, no personal attachments to the world he got dumped into. The Soul King never specified what he was supposed to do in a world where technology is ahead of its time and aliens and secret governments exist. As for the people he has to deal with… Well, it isn't like he hasn't dealt with colorful personalities before.

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><p><strong>Note: <strong>This is my first update in a long time. I've been busy with getting ready for my first year of college and moving out since it's out of state. Standing up is agonizingly being written so no, I'm not quitting on the story. Don't worry.

I've noticed not many people go into this crossover, so I decided to give it a shot. This is my first crossover attempt, so please tell me if it sounds okay and if my characterization seems off. Also, the timeline is based off of wiki, so anyone who wants to know the details, check it out. I made sure to be very specific.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

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><p>Ichigo wondered once again what the hell he had been thinking when he chose South America as a place to travel in. The weather was hot, the land was vast and full of damn nothing from the dirt to the sun as far as the eye can see. It was blander than what he had expected when he had first arrived at the airport weeks ago.<p>

At the back of his mind, he was tempted to blame Ulquiorra for somehow convincing him a Spanish-language based country would be a good as any place to start the last time he had called the Arrancars. Next to his English, he was pretty decent in the language due to the teachings of a very patient Halibel and surprisingly Grimmjow, who taught him quite a bit of swear words in the process. He had stumbled over the unfamiliar words like an idiot at the beginning before getting the hang of it, prompting Grimmjow to laugh his ass off in the background along with a giggling Nel at the time.

So far, he had started from a bit north to Ecuador before finally gave up. Coming here had been stupid of him. Groaning, he squinted under the heat waves that were bearing down on him and was met with not a hint of civilization.

Just like an hour ago.

Sullen, he mentally swatted Shiro upside the head when he heard him snickering, Zangetsu watching with silent amusement at his predicament. Ichigo swore to himself that he would kick the Hollow's ass later the next time they sparred.

Wiping off the sweat that was pouring down his face, he adjusted the cap he had bought at the convenience store. It was white and had 'Hola!' stitched in bright red at the front. The two prime reasons why he was wearing it was to one, to protect his head from the heat and two, to bring less attention to his bright orange hair.

It was bad enough that he was a foreigner. He would like to go where he liked without getting pointed or stared at, thank you very much. He would've preferred black though but he wasn't so crazy to cook his cranium like an egg.

Hiking next to the road, he reflected on his life choices that led him to this point.

Let's see, he could always say it was the Spirit King's fault who had dumped him into this world a couple months after he had defeated Aizen without using Final Getsuga Tenshou. The price, however, had been getting kicked out of his own universe and leaving all his clueless friends behind who doesn't even know that he had left. Well, except Urahara.

Feeling the old scar start to itch, he shook off his bitterness and kept walking.

After checking his watch and seeing that half an hour has passed, he halted in his steps when he spotted something in the distance.

Right there in his line of vision were actual buildings, a semblance of people figures mulling around from where he could see. Inwardly cheering, Ichigo didn't even have to think to start sprinting toward what he could tell was a small town. Months of training his human body paid off as he kept his breathing even, closing the distance steadily. The place was miles away, and he didn't want to waste all his energy.

After about an hour or so, he finally reached the sweet sanctuary, panting a little and more energized than he felt in days. Barely any sweat trickled down his forehead, but his shoulders vaguely ached from carrying the weight of his heavy backpack for hours, straining his neck.

He ignored the odd looks people threw his way, probably wondering where he had so abruptly came from, and dug through his bag until he found his water bottle that was little to worse for wear from running so fast. Hungrily taking a gulp, he barely noticed the water was lukewarm and chugged on. After months of residing in the barren Hueco Mundo, he had gotten used to warm water very quickly. He was just glad he had any in the first place.

After he was done, he glanced around casually, sharp eyes taking in the small buildings and stores. People bustled to their destinations, few briefly faltering when they saw the Japanese before he scowled fiercely at them, prompting them to scamper off.

Scoffing at their reactions, he didn't bother to check the reiatsu level in the area. He had found out very quickly after visiting Japan that reiatsu apparently didn't exist in this world. After his failed attempt at finding Karakura town – which apparently didn't exist either – he had travelled all around Japan in search of anything familiar or different. It didn't take long for him to start panicking when he realized he couldn't feel _anything._ Not one whiff of anything spiritual brushed his senses, sending him off on a spree to find _something, _anything strange in his old country in the new realm.

He visited temples on the highest mountains, conversed with shamans, hell, went to more friggin fortune telling booths than he liked to think about.

Zilch. Nada. Absolutely nothing.

After the startling revelation, it had at first been extremely disconcerting, him struggling to accept this sudden change. Even before he even knew about shinigamis and Hollows, he had always been surrounded by the supernatural world. Seeing ghosts float around the streets or even his house was the norm, a constant disturbance in his short life since his mother's death. It rubbed him the wrong way that he couldn't detect any otherworldly manifestations normal people couldn't sense anywhere.

A year ago, he probably would've celebrated at the very idea of being like everyone else. After all, having ghosts follow your trail every time you go home and having weird looks thrown at your way when you seemingly talked to yourself was pretty damn tiring.

But that was before a certain Kuchiki barged in to his life and opened up a whole new world to him. Now, he missed the disorder of his old life and almost craved for a sign of anything unnatural. He felt so out of place, literally an intruder from another dimension.

He briefly snorted to himself as he vividly imagined people's reactions if he ever explained where he came from. _Oh, yeah. I'm a dimension hopper and a death god who fights monsters as an occupation. Don't worry, they don't seem to exist here, though I half wish they do. I'm not crazy at all!_

Yeah, that would go down _so _well.

He admits that he had been tempted by the idea to just go with it. To live a normal life, finish high school, and even go to college, but banished the notion immediately from his mind. He had changed far too much to ever live a dull, ordinary life after literally going through hell and back for his loved ones.

He could only imagine what the school psychologist would make of him since he was technically a war veteran, despite it being only one massive bloody battle. He would've pitied the poor bastard who would have _that _job if he ever really did grace the academic hallways with his ever sunny personality.

Walking down the street vendors, he paused at one of the newspaper stands and saw that the date was March, 2008. He didn't know why, but apparently, this world was six years ahead of his own. There was no logical reason to it so he had immediately dismissed the detail without much care.

He had also found out quite quickly that the technology here was well ahead of its time, developing at a pace that was almost frightening. Other than that, the differences were subtle but not unbearable to him. He had never been materialistic or current about the news to begin with so it wasn't like it was a humongous change for him.

Though none of the changes affected him too much, he had to admit to himself there was something strange about this place that quite frankly perturbed him. It felt too clean, too normal, enough for it to be unsettling. When he had researched a bit more into this world's history, there had been questionable miniscule changes that had left him mystified.

Some unheard of battles in World War II, an intriguing super soldier in a ridiculous spandex called Captain America – he had chortled for a few minutes at the originality of the title when he had been researching at a library at the time and was still unsure if the 'super soldier' part was simply for propaganda – and a millionaire weapon's dealer whose name escaped him but was evidently pretty damn famous. And a few notable scientific advancements that have been made here that didn't occur in his world.

Apparently at the moment, quite a few countries were at war, some diplomatic crap has hit the fan, and politicians were still douchebags – he took some weird small comfort from this, since he couldn't imagine any universe where that wasn't the case. North Korea had also made some notable advancements over the years, though they were nowhere close to the forgettable American millionaire. The man was impressively pretty much the reason why America was number one in the weapon's industry for the last few decades.

Though his attendance record had slipped during the second half of his first year of high school, making it pretty difficult to be on top of things, he wasn't an idiot. His top marks despite shinigami business getting in the way proved that. Besides, even if that wasn't the case, only a complete imbecile wouldn't notice the obvious holes of information that were missing in between some of this world's historic events.

If he didn't know any better, it was like someone messed with the history records themselves just to match people's perceptions and to ward off any suspicion. Considering Soul Society's past, the first captain's many mistakes and bad decisions along with Aizen's deception, adding to a certain manipulative shopkeeper who Ichigo wanted to punch half the times, he had learned through experience that not everything was what is seemed.

If Shinji was here, he probably would've snarked in displeasure about there probably being another Central 46 in the midst of all this. While Ichigo did not like the sound of such an organization, he couldn't deny this was a high possibility unfortunately.

Shaking off his darkening thoughts, he wandered around a bit more and began to search for a motel. He had been given basic provisions and a few thousand dollars from the Soul King – he thought it was a bit of an overkill but didn't complain – when he first arrived here. He didn't use the money much since he did as many odd jobs he could find every time he stopped by a town to save it up as much as possible. Unlike most stupid teenagers, he was sensible enough not to splurge like an idiot.

After fifteen minutes, he found a satisfactory place.

It was a bit shady, but it was cheap and it wasn't like he couldn't take care of himself. Nodding to the guy at the counter after paying, he trudged up the creaky stairs and went down the hall until he found his room on the third floor.

Clicking the key and twisting it, he entered in a fairly small, dingy room that had his eyes watering when the dust hit. Wiping away the film of liquid over his vision, he took note of the single bed and wooden chair and table, a bathroom next to him. Shutting the door behind him, he immediately flopped his whole body onto the bed and closed his eyes, sighing with a bit of contentment as he rested. The mattress was a bit hard but not unbearable. After sleeping on desert sand for months, he has become pretty quick to adapting to his surroundings, among other things.

Without his permission, his mind started to drift as the sound of bustling crowds outside his window lulled him to sleep. Tired from the run and the minimum sleep he got from the constant travelling of the past few days, everything went black.

**~A~**

_Staring and beckoning, looking to the stars for answers in his house for the first time in months since training with the Vaizards, feeling dejected and frustrated. His head was pounding with a headache and he felt like brooding after dishing it out with that damn blue haired bastard._

_Soon, he's going off to war. He's going to fight for his friends, his family, his home. Failure is unacceptable. Failure means death to thousands if you count Soul Society and his home town put together._

_He can't beat Aizen. Not like this. He's not strong enough, and he doesn't have time. There's never enough damn time. Shit, he had to save everyone. He doesn't care what it takes. Nothing can be worse than all of them dead. Absolutely nothing-_

_"Then let me give you an opportunity, Kurosaki Ichigo."_

_A voice. Soft yet powerful, commanding respect and is serene as a pool of untouched water. Then the words register._

_Hope flares like the burning sun._

_'Tell me.'_

_"Careful now. Don't be hasty. You will regret this if you agree so rashly."_

_Don't care don't care. Everyone depends on him. Everyone is trying their best to get stronger. He had to get stronger, to protect them, before it's too late-_

_"So, do we have an agreement?"_

_'Heh. Do you even have to ask that?'_

_"Remember the price. Remember, this is your choice."_

_'You talk too much. Are you gonna help me or not?'_

_-he doesn't regret his choice. He can't. He won't. Aizen lost. They won. Everyone is alive. That's all that mattered to him._

_But damn it, they're gone to him now. They're alive but they might as well be dead to him. He didn't exist. He was _replaced_. _Forgotten_. A savior a mystery a _relic_-_

Ichigo's brown eyes snapped open in alarm, body bolting up as his hand flew to cover his face, heart wildly thumping. Shutting his eyes, he shook his head to stave off the nightmare, panic residing as old frustration took place instead, causing him to scowl.

Damn, this was getting old really fast. It's been months for fuck sake. He lost enough already; he didn't need his sanity to go along with it. Sighing heavily, he rubbed his hair out of his face to wipe off the cold sweat that trickled down his forehead. Glancing outside, he cursed mentally when he saw that it was pitch black. He didn't even have to look at his watch to know that it was late in the night.

This was what he got for falling asleep in the middle of the day. Though, to be fair, he never sleeps for long because of the nightmares. He brushes it off easily enough, berating himself every time that he has to get it over with and deal with the fact that this was his reality now.

Yeah, easier said than done.

Suddenly, he realized that there was something odd in the air. Hand freezing, he felt a niggling, small pull that he hadn't felt since he had arrived to this world. He automatically seized the dagger he had in his pants side pocket, tuning in on to the feeling he hadn't felt in painful months. He realized wryly to himself that he had unconsciously started to search for threats the moment he woke up.

Tilting his head, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated.

It _was _reiatsu.

But there was something… _odd_ about it. Now that he was making a conscious effort, he felt uneasy by the threatening, raging emotion he could feel just from here. It was powerful and uncontrollable, but thankfully, it didn't feel malicious.

Some of his wariness let up a notch from this observation, but none of his trepidation. He berated himself for ignoring something that could be potentially dangerous simply because he had just a bit underestimated this world.

And, much to his surprise, the presence was quite close.

Leaping off the bed lithely like a cat, he quickly threw the door open and stealthily shut it before he went down the stairs with a certain grace that would make Yoruichi proud. Tracing the disturbing reiatsu, he found himself in front of a door on the second floor, the piece of wood nondescript and hiding a possible threat.

Narrowing his eyes, he steeled himself before promptly kicking down the door with his foot, not really caring at all what the possibly dangerous occupant would think of it. He'll handle that scenario later _after_ he knew what he was dealing with.

Besides, he had a gut feeling that if he knocked, the person would run away from him the moment he or she heard the sound.

The first thing that caught his attention when he entered was how utterly dark the room was. He wrinkled his nose when the strong stench of something chemical and herblike lingering in the air hit his senses. Squinting, he deduced that the place was the same size of his own room and had the same accommodations too. He internally thanked his lucky stars that his eyes were able to adjust to the dark easily due to being used to Hueco Mundo's constant darkness with the moon as the realm's only source of light.

Brown intent eyes swept over the meticulously clean room, as if the person staying here was ready to leave at any moment. There wasn't a hint or hair of the renter and that instantly made Ichigo suspicious. Every part of his body was screaming at him in warning, keeping him on his guard. The presence had spiked when he had barged in, signifying that it was still in the room.

Suddenly, he noticed that the bathroom door was closed shut. Without hesitation, he banged his fists to the door.

He paused for a second.

Nothing.

His jaw clenching a bit now in annoyance, he kicked down the door again.

He thought idly to himself for a brief second over how much the owner was probably going to demand payment for all the damage he was making. Seeing how he was young, the guy would probably try to rip him off – not like he'll let him anyways.

The moment he did this action, what met his sights were… unexpected to say the least.

Instead of a spirit or some supernatural creature he had half anticipated, it was a middle aged man with curly black hair who sat on the dirty bathroom floor, brown eyes wide with dread and weariness that made him look older than he already seemed. The small washroom was bare, a single shaver and a lonely toothbrush resting on the sink while a towel was hazardously tossed on top of it.

What caught Ichigo's attention the most though was the small, gleaming handgun that the man was clenching onto with white knuckles.

And it was pointed. At Ichigo.

Ichigo resisted the urge to sigh. Sometimes, he really hated the type of situations he got himself into. Especially if he stumbled in those situations on his own free will or stupidity.

Deciding to start on a friendly note since it looked like things were going to end on a bad one, he gave a short, somewhat sarcastic wave at the armed man with a neutral expression.

"Yo. What the hell are you doing?"

Okay, maybe _not _that friendly. He was used to being brisk since it cut down the bullshit faster. He also used his heavily accented English since it was more commonly understood.

The man blinked stupidly in shock.

"You-Wha-They sent a _kid_?" the man spluttered out back in the same language with something close to hysterical laughter choking his throat, seconds away from breaking down.

Ichigo scowled at the incredulous tone and straightened his back. Geez, he thought he had at least gotten away from _that _type of reaction. Everyone in Soul Society had treated him with awe for his power or disbelief when they find out he's human and only a teenager. He fought in a damn war and age didn't matter then!

His eyes narrowed slightly when he caught the comment. Who were _they_? Judging from how unsettlingly empty the motel room was, it was quite obvious that the man was used to constantly moving places. Ichigo did the same thing due to his own paranoia.

_They_… Judging from his rather hostile response, he must be some kind of fugitive. There was no doubt that it was because of his rather strange reiatsu.

A rather twitchy, trigger happy fugitive.

And the guy thinks _Ichigo _works for his chaser.

_Wonderful._

He bit back a scalding remark at the man's response and forced his shoulders to relax until he looked less intimidating. "I don't know who 'they' are, but I sure as hell ain't whoever you're thinking of."

Uncertainty practically vibrated off the man, his hand wavering but still locked on to Ichigo. Slightly eyeballing the grey bathroom ceiling in exasperation, the orange headed teen raised his hands in a universal peace gesture and took a large step back away from the entrance of the bathroom. The action seemed to put the man more at ease as he slowly but surely lowered the gun until it clacked onto the floor, much to Ichigo's relief. Things could've gone messy if he hadn't done this right.

Cautiously, the man jerked his head in a nod and vaguely gestured in his direction. Now that the immediate danger has passed, Ichigo couldn't help but notice how shabby the guy looked. His navy collar shirt looked years old and the state of his pants and shoes looked worn out and faded. If there were any doubts about the guy being a fugitive, it was all but erased by now.

"Who are you then kid?"

Ichigo noted the bone-tiring exhaustion that colored his tone and felt some of his irritation fall down from it, despite being called a kid. It's hard to stay mad at someone who looked ready to collapse at any moment.

"Kurosaki Ichigo. Or Ichigo Kurosaki to be more precise." He corrected, remembering how Americans put their first names before their family names. Without moving from his spot, Ichigo offered his hand. "You?"

The curly haired man's eyes sparked briefly at the Japanese name before quickly darting to his hand. For a long moment, he just stared at it before slowly getting up, stumbling a bit as if his legs had fallen asleep, and hesitantly shook his hand.

"Bruce." He said shortly. Ichigo bypassed the fact he didn't give his last name and released the handshake. The man fidgeted at Ichigo's intense gaze and glanced around the room and stopped at the open door.

"How did you get in here?" Bruce demanded. Ichigo couldn't help but uncomfortably rub the back of his head.

"I kicked the door open."

"Why?"

The weary look was back. Shit. Maybe breaking the door hadn't been a good idea.

Ichigo coughed into his fist. "I had a bad feeling and I followed it." He said truthfully.

The unconvinced expression he got made him mentally wince. Yeah, even to him that sounded farfetched.

"A bad feeling." Bruce repeated skeptically.

"Yeah. I heard something in here, got suspicious, and investigated." Ichigo waved him vaguely. "Don't worry, I'll pay for the damages."

Bruce looked ready to argue. Ichigo cut in before he could, saying the first question that popped in his mind.

"So, mind telling me why the hell you were in a bathroom with a gun?"

Bruce paled at the abrupt question, instantly sending a sense of wrongness in Ichigo's gut. There was fear and something close to guilt and shame on his face. This puzzled Ichigo for a moment before it clicked.

The gun. The dark room. The privacy of the bathroom and the melancholy vibe and guilt that had been spiking the man's reiatsu at being caught-

"Were you going to commit _suicide_? Are you an _idiot_?!" he blurted out, unable to keep the incredulity from layering his tone.

Bruce gawked at his atypical reaction. Ichigo didn't honestly care.

He wasn't trying to be insensitive, but such a choice has never even been thought of as a possibility to Ichigo. Even at his lowest point in life, he had never contemplated ending his own life. He had seen what that could do to a soul when they passed on. It twisted a person, made them lose sight of themselves and the hope for tomorrow. Giving up has never been an option to him before, and it never will be for as long as he lived. Maybe he didn't have anything now at the moment, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to keep trying until he found something to do with himself. Life was precious and to throw it away was both cowardly and just plain insulting to the likes of him who fought so hard for other people's lives and his own.

Shaking his head, he couldn't help but feel relieved that he had diverted someone from such a path. Putting away his whirling thoughts, he outright glowered now that he knew at least part of the situation. Sympathy has fled and his temper has returned.

"Seriously, what shit hit your fan to get you to this point? Your answer to it seems pretty stupid if you ask me." He growled. Bruce looked completely floored by this point and stared at him like _he _was the one with suicidal tendencies.

"Do you always tend to be this-this forward?" Bruce stuttered. Ichigo grunted.

"It cuts to the chase, doesn't it?" he shot back. A startled snort escaped out of the other man before he gave him an assessing stare, like he doesn't know what to make of him.

"Well, most people wouldn't react the way you do."

The orange haired teen shrugged.

"I'm not most people." he said dismissively. Since the tension has disappeared at this point, Ichigo felt himself relax more in the man's presence. Other than the rather unusual reiatsu the man had, he didn't seem like a bad person. Suicidal, yes, but whatever. It's not like he hasn't seen that trait before.

Not wanting to stand up the whole time for this depressing conversation, Ichigo pulled up the wooden chair next to the bed and casually slumped into it. Might as well get comfortable.

Bruce looked dubious at his actions before quietly going to the door and closing it, lock broken and room dark before he flipped on the lights. With the dim shadows playing from the faulty lighting, the illumination only seemed to deepen the shadows of Bruce's stress lines, causing him to look more bone-weary. Ichigo couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy. He must really have a rough life to have almost fallen off the cliff.

Ichigo gave him an almost expected stare. Bruce's eyebrows furrowed at the look, obviously not knowing what he was waiting for. Rolling his eyes at this, Ichigo threw a hand in the air in impatience.

"So? You never answered the question you know." He said bluntly. Bruce shook his head, bemused, before he sighed.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Ichigo snorted.

"You'd be surprised." He retorted back. "Does it have anything to do with your little freak out when I interrupted you almost kicking the bucket?"

Bruce went rimrod straight, instantly guarded.

"You don't need to know."

Ichigo didn't even blink at being stonewalled and rolled his eyes. "Fine. But I have to say, suicide is a crappy way to go so don't try it again."

Bruce lifted one shoulder lopsidedly. "I'll keep that in mind." He said loftily with an edge of sarcasm.

Ichigo couldn't help but slightly smirk at the sound of it.

So the man _did _have a backbone. That was good to know.

Bruce looked curiously at him long and hard. Ichigo noticed the intelligent gleam in his eyes, calculative but not manipulative as some people he knew, thank the gods.

"So," Ichigo straightened at Bruce's voluntary start of conversation. "what is a teenager doing in the middle of South America and not in school?"

"Exploring." Ichigo answered flatly. Bruce did not for a second look like he believed him. Seeing this, Ichigo sighed.

"My parents aren't… here anymore," his voice traitorously hitched a bit at the thought of his goofy, clueless old man and his mother who was buried ten feet underground. Her death only instigated a tiny pang in his chest though, so that was an improvement. "I took the liberty to quit school. A lot of events happened too fast and the next thing you know, my whole life's been flipped upside down."

He wryly quirked up the end of his mouth at the half-truths that were spouting out of his mouth. Urahara would be proud.

Bruce looked sympathetic and a bit guilty, falling immediately for the deliberate misinterpretation. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Ichigo snorted. "Hey, it's fine. I'll get over it eventually." He said, talking about an entirely different matter altogether.

The man nodded understandingly. Ichigo shrewdly narrowed his eyes but didn't push. There was a story there.

"So I guess you're soul-searching then." He sounded far more comfortable than before from Ichigo's voluntary reveal of his past.

Ichigo barked out a laugh. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But things'll turn out fine."

Bruce gave him a sideways look of surprise. "Sounds oddly positive of you."

Ichigo resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. "I'm not being positive but practical. Because no matter how bad it looks now, it can only get better or worse. If you choose to believe there's no point in hoping… Well, then I can guess why you would want to take your own life so easily. Simple."

"Simple." Bruce huffed out a humorless laugh. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Both fell silent, not really wanting to talk. Ichigo thought over how their situations paralleled one another.

Both were running away from something.

Ichigo rolled his shoulders, thoughtful. The American – he assumed he was American from his lack of accent, but he could be wrong – was pretty interesting. And though his good deed was done, he was reluctant to make his exit, especially when the man could be potentially dangerous with his ever-fluctuating reiatsu. His gut told him to stick around while his head steadfastly told him that getting involved was a bad idea.

_'But isn't this what you wanted?'_ Some part of him whispered. '_To find something to do with yourself?'_

He grinded his teeth. But getting involved meant probably getting unwanted attention. From the looks of it, somebody was searching for Bruce and to stick close to such a person will inevitably have Ichigo found out. And if that happened, he'll probably be looked up, only for people to find absolutely nothing about him.

Which'll bring curiosity, and prodding, and maybe even getting experimented on. He had quite enough from Kurotsuchi's previous dogged attempts to do so.

After a long internal debate, he finally sighed in resignation.

Screw this. There's no way he could leave. The very notion of the action rubbed him the wrong way, especially since it meant abandoning someone who clearly was in trouble. His natural need to protect people wouldn't allow him to do so.

He deftly ignored how Shiro whooped and pumped a fist in the air at finally doing something other than sightseeing while Zangetsu was a lot more subdued, though his hum of approval still rang true, his pleasure evident.

Blast himself and those idiots.

Arching off the wall he had been leaning on, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you wanna grab some grub? I'm starving."

The man looked taken aback by his rather abrupt invitation.

"You do realize we've just met, right?" Bruce said dryly. Ichigo scoffed and crossed his arms.

"Isn't it always like that when you meet new people?"

The end of Bruce's lip quirked up into a bitter line, eyes dark with something close to sinking despair. "Trust me, it's smarter to just pretend you never met me. Seriously."

That made Ichigo's metaphorical hackles rise, his resolve steeling itself at the self-deprecating words.

"Shut up. I've never taken the smart course before and I'm not going to start now. I'm hungry and you're not bad company. So suck it up because I am not gonna leave, whether you like it or not. Besides, I have to pay for the doors I broke down so it's not like you're going to be able to get rid of me so easily."

The curly haired man stared at him for a long while before huffing out a laugh. To Ichigo's pleasure, Bruce stood up and slowly began to shake his head.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." He breathed. Ichigo smirked in victory.

"I've been told I'm pretty stubborn."

"You can say that again."

Ichigo's smirk widened into a crooked smile that hadn't made an appearance in ages as they walked out of the room.

Maybe this wasn't entirely such a bad idea after all.

**~A~**

Unbeknownst to the shinigami's knowledge, a man of middle build and height who was holding a large satellite dish along with some equipment heard every word of the exchange. Hiding in another building that was a long distance away from the motel, the agent immediately fumbled out his phone and called up his employer. One beep barely went through on the line before it was immediately picked up.

"Director."

_"What happened?"_ The man's deep, commanding voice demanded without preamble.

"An unknown has initiated contact to the target."

_"… Who is he?"_

"I don't know sir. He said his name was Ichigo Kurosaki."

_"Is he a threat."_

"I don't know sir. But he does seem suspicious."

_"… Trail them. Report to me when you find out anything more."_

"Yes sir."

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><p><strong>Please review on the way out.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in Avengers or Bleach.**

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><p><strong>Note:<strong> I am really surprised by how many people like this and am very happy about it too. Thank you for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter! And as for your questions, send it to me on Tumblr and I'm all yours.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

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><p>Ichigo stared at the misshapen, strange fruit and gave the patiently amused Bruce a look.<p>

"Really?" Ichigo deadpanned. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Cherimoya; It's a native fruit. People consider it a custard apple." The older man promptly answered, never losing the small smile that Ichigo had worked hard to break into for the past three weeks of their acquaintance.

The orange haired teen sneered at the green, scaly… _monstrosity_ with disgust.

"Well whatever the hell it is, there's no way I'm gonna eat that." He declared. Bruce chuckled and raised an eyebrow, holding up the whatever-its-name-was item carefully.

"I never would've pegged you as a picky eater."

"I'm _not._" Ichigo stressed. "But there's a limit to what you should put into your mouth. Only idiots willfully eat things that clearly have a high chance of being poisoned."

"You're exaggerating."

"Like hell I am." Ichigo growled. At the back of his mind, he noted how people around the market stall they were browsing at kept on glancing towards their way, probably because they were foreigners speaking nonsensical words and more because of his uncommon hair color that practically screamed 'NOTICE ME!' in big bold letters.

He had forgotten his hat unfortunately at the motel and he was truly regretting it now. Along with the prodding stares and constant crowding that made him edgy with the sun beating mercilessly down on his head as well, it's a wonder how he hasn't committed homicide by now.

Bruce shook his head at this and finally set the so called 'fruit' down.

"Come on. We still have some time to buy the supplies for whatever you say you're going to make."

His skeptical tone made the teenager snort.

"I'm so touched by your confidence in my skills."

"Only because I can't imagine you having the patience in actually making something." Bruce quipped out, causing Ichigo to smirk.

After their awkward, somewhat slow dinner – Ichigo can never brag at being the best conversationalist – progressing Ichigo's invitation, the owner of the motel had thrown a fit at the damage Ichigo had onslaught, spewing out curses in Spanish at rapid speed the moment they walked right through the door. He had no idea that Ichigo understood every word due to a certain electric blue haired Arrancar and had been flat out shocked when Ichigo spat out vehemently some creative insults of his own in barely halting Spanish right back at him. The man had been so stunned, that all he could do was numbly take the money Ichigo roughly shoved into his limp arms before he had stormed off with a stunned Bruce right behind his heels.

The only plus side of the situation had been the hilarious, dumbfounded look on the dick's face that made him look stupider than he probably already was.

And right after _that,_ he and Bruce got into a fight.

The man had been adamant over the fact that Ichigo was only a teenager and shouldn't be paying for the damages. Ichigo had snorted and dismissed that unimportant fact easily, much to the older man's frustration. They had squabbled and tried to one up each other in their reasoning, his new acquaintance surprisingly quite stubborn in the debate, able to fire back instantly on the get go.

Ichigo couldn't help but be impressed by the man's quick intelligence, adding a point to the man's character for being able to stick up for himself while having the spine to back it up.

Getting tired of the conversation, Ichigo had sighed in irritation before he ticked off in a clipped tone how one, he had been the one to break down the doors in the first place and two, could afford to pay or else he wouldn't have offered, and three, was doing this out of his own violation _so stop arguing about this damn it_.

Ichigo very much had to stop himself from giving a smug grin when Bruce finally threw his hands up in the air with baffled resignation before sulking towards his room, muttering under his breath along the lines of "What sane teenager turns down avoiding charges?"

The next morning, his expression held something close to resembling surprise and cautiousness when Ichigo had knocked on his broken door, offering him breakfast in a bag along with a cup of still steaming coffee. He had considered Ichigo as if he hadn't believed he was real until he saw him.

The look had ticked him off to no ends, only bolstering his determination to stay. And after a couple weeks of periodically meeting each other every day, the walls were starting to crack and Ichigo was satisfied with the results.

Bruce rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder.

"Come on. Dinner isn't going to make itself."

Ichigo grunted but obliged, walking side by side with Bruce through the busy marketplace.

During the few weeks of their acquaintance, Ichigo learned quite a bit about the mysterious no-last-name wanderer. He discovered that Bruce had been a scientist and hadn't been surprised by the revelation. The man's intelligence reminded him of Urahara, although thankfully Bruce wasn't nearly as annoying as the bastard. Also, he confirmed that he was indeed American and that he's been travelling around the last couple of years for unknown reasons he still refused to explain. Ichigo never pushed the issue and always tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, getting quick grateful looks from the older man whenever he did.

Other than that, they skirted off their personal lives and stuck with light hearted, impersonal subjects like books, current events, and stories of their time travelling.

Their conversations would entail Ichigo intently listening and give candid comments here and there, making his opinions quite clear without reservation. He had initially worried for only a millisecond over how Bruce would take his crude honesty and dismissed the issue away when he saw how Bruce seemed more startled than anything by his behavior. He still didn't know whether he should take offense to that or not.

Bruce seemed fascinated by the Japanese culture and religion while Ichigo subtly learned more about the going-ons of the world he got landed in. He casually asked from time to time about the advancements of technology and tried not to look clueless when Bruce spoke of something called iPhones or Twitter or other social media groups Ichigo has never heard of. Bruce had looked incredulous at the fact Ichigo has never used Facebook in his life.

Ichigo inwardly rolled his eyes. All of it sounded like a hassle to him.

And as time passed, Ichigo realized he was content. The hole in his chest didn't feel so heavy and he knew right then and there that no matter what, he was going to protect Bruce. Bruce was his friend and nobody messed with Ichigo's friends.

This sent a sense of disconcertion rolling in his stomach.

It's not that he had a problem with being friends with Bruce (the guy seriously needed some) but the dynamics between them wasn't something he was used to. While Bruce did treat him like an adult and never looked down on him, there were many times where he would pause in surprise between conversations, as if he just realized he was discussing with a seventeen year old teenager about the war in Iraq.

Apparently, normal teenagers usually aren't interested in these kind of issues. The thought irked him to no ends.

Back home, all his friends and allies had looked to him for answers, following him in whatever direction he chose and stuck to. Hell, centuries years old captains and lieutenants let him take the lead when it called for it. Even Shinji, leader of the Vaizards and a cocky son of a bitch on a good day, treated him like an equal with clear respect between them.

As for his relationship with Urahara, to say it was complicated was undermining it drastically. It's like saying Toushiro didn't have a short temper or Byakuya not having a stick shoved up his ass. Half the times he was the genius scientist, sharp and scarily intelligent. Other times, he was a carefree, shady bastard who Ichigo wanted to stab a hundred times over with Zangetsu. Nevertheless, Ichigo had to grudgingly admit that he was the closest thing he had to a mentor, someone who he could go to for answers and ask for advice. Other than that, nobody treated him like a child and he liked it that way.

Even before the whole Shinigami business, he had always been an independent person, his father never interfering in his decisions or his life. The very thought is almost laughable. Along with the fact he was the older brother of two sisters, he was accustomed to shouldering responsibility that was cast onto him.

So while it was understandable to get these kind of reactions from Bruce, Ichigo couldn't help the flash of irritation he felt whenever Bruce gave him a speculative look, assessing him in a way that was all too familiar for Ichigo's liking.

Not to mention how he always tries to pay for the groceries and such. It's an uphill battle in itself convincing Bruce to let him pay for at least half the food.

Other than that, his prime worry was being discovered. Sooner or later – he preferred later – people were going to find out about his presence and when that time came, his time of peace would be over.

Mentally groaning at the thought, he could only pray that shit wasn't going to hit the fan if-_when_ it did.

**~A~**

Nick Fury was pissed.

And anyone who knows his reputation would know that his temperament was not something to be messed with, especially when he was the director of a secret organization that could kill you in your sleep, erase you from history, and make it so no one would ever find your body.

So to say that the S.H.I.E.L.D operatives were jumpy whenever he was around now would be a vast understatement in various proportions.

Rubbing his furrowed forehead for what felt like the millionth time, Fury scowled hard and deep as Maria Hill looked at him with a carefully neutral expression that didn't show any fear whatsoever. At the back of his mind, Fury applauded the woman for her self-control. She should win a goddamn medal for this job.

"Is there any update on Operation Orange?"

Operation Orange. Seeing how it was the only definite fact they had on the kid – and wasn't that just fucking sad – Fury just went with it. Besides, hardly anyone in the room except for the linguistics team ever got the target's name right, butchering over the foreignness of it. They could have used a translation or something, but one of the linguistics team members had said with some dry humor that it would translate to 'Operation Strawberry.'

Hell would freeze over before he agreed to use that.

Much to his aggravation, Coulson still silently laughed himself silly over the name. You could tell by his damn twinkling eyes.

Hill adjusted her stance so she stood straighter, her appearance immaculate and sharp.

"Unfortunately, no sir. Kurosaki is currently shopping in the marketplace with Dr. Banner and doesn't seem to be making a move any time soon." She answered curtly.

Fury frowned. Three weeks ago, he had been alerted about someone making contact with Banner and apparently befriending him in the process. He still didn't know how the hell that happened. Banner was a paranoid man – with all rights to – and for someone to get past the man's defenses so quickly was disturbing. When the agent recounted what exactly happened during their encounter, warning bells rang like the tower of Big Ben in his head. The kid's story practically screamed suspicious.

He had a bad feeling? Seriously? Who the hell did the kid think he's fooling? Either he was charismatic as Ghandi – which he won't count on, considering how caustically blunt he appeared to be – or he really doesn't know how to lie, a paradoxical trait that didn't match up to anything he suspected.

Not only that, they still haven't found a scrap of information on the kid. No records, no birth certificates, hell, there wasn't even a parking ticket to the guy's name. He even had the technical team hack into the Japanese government's records but so far, no luck. It was like the kid was a fucking ghost.

He _hates_ it when that happens.

And speaking from experience, there were only few possibilities how this could be possible.

Either the kid was an incredible hacker who had managed to erase himself out of the system, or was working for someone who had the power and brains to do so. Seeing how the kid was only seventeen and, from what the agent monitoring him says, doesn't even know how to use Facebook (unless that was an act too, anything was possible at this point), the first option was very unlikely.

Which meant a possible outside party and more meetings with the damn Council.

_Fucking fantastic._

Fury heavily sighed.

"Is there anything else Agent Hill?"

"No sir."

Fury felt the oncoming headache rising, resigned in what he had to do. Standing up from his seat, he briskly made his way out of his office, intent on going to his destination. Hill promptly followed behind him, looking vaguely confused.

"Sir?" she questioned. Fury didn't stop his pace and merely waved a hand behind him.

"Call up Romanoff. We're taking the initiative."

As for him, he was late for a council meeting. Sometimes – scratch that, all the time – he really hated being the Director.

**~A~**

"So, what will we be making?

Ichigo drilled a glare at Bruce and pointed to the couch in a commanding manner.

"Nuh uh. There's no way I'm going to let you cook. Sit and wait. This won't take long."

Bruce had the grace to rub the back of his head sheepishly as both remembered what happened the first and last time Ichigo let him near the kitchen. In all his experiences of cooking, Ichigo has never seen such black curry before, the sauce popping bubbles ominously and looking like some concoction Orihime would make. Honestly, it's amazing how the man was able to survive this long.

He wondered if being a bad cook was a requirement for a scientist. He remembered one time how Geta-boushi had sent stew of all things to flames, the inferno only rising higher and higher the more the idiot panicked and tried to fix it. It had taken a fire extinguisher to stop the blaze from burning down the whole goddamn shop, soapy bubbles soaking a displeased Ichigo along with a nervously laughing Urahara.

Needless to say, the beat-down hadn't been pretty.

And Spirit King only knows what the twelve captain would make if the nutcase ever lands himself in the kitchen.

Shuddering at the horrifying thought, he quickly pushed the scenario out of mind.

"You never answered the question." Bruce reminded him, shoulders loose and looking more relaxed than Ichigo has ever seen from him. Ichigo spread out the vegetables on the table counter, inspecting them carefully. Shop vendors usually try to cheat people off.

"Fried rice." He gathered all the good ingredients in the bowl for washing. "You can wait at the couch if you want. This is going to take some time."

"Pass. Maybe I can learn something from watching you."

Ichigo snorted inelegantly.

"Doubt it."

Bruce shrugged. "One can hope."

The two settled into comfortable silence as Ichigo washed and cut the vegetables, the rice cooking as he did. Bruce observed the process with interest as he prepared the dish, admiring Ichigo's skill with the knife as he efficiently chopped the ingredients.

"Where did you even learn to cook?" Bruce asked wonderingly.

"I taught myself mostly." Ichigo revealed, brushing off the miniscule pieces of carrots off his hands. A flicker of old sorrow cloaked his expression for only a moment. "When my mom passed away, _someone_ had to cook. My dad's cooking probably would've given us all food poisoning, so I read off of mom's old cook books so I could feed my sisters when dad works late. A few years later, I taught one of my sisters how to cook and she started to take care of the house." A fond smile curled his lips as he remembered kind but stubborn Yuzu insist on helping with the chores, including cooking. Karin took up some of the load too, nagging him that he shouldn't do it alone.

Bruce blinked in surprise. "You have sisters?"

Ichigo nodded, ducking his head down so Bruce wouldn't see his expression as he arranged the frying pan. Out of all the people he truly missed in his world, the loss of his sisters hit him the hardest. While they were thankfully alive and happy with their lives, the fact he could never see or talk to them was heartwrenching, making him go into depressive moods when he dwelled over his losses. The only comfort he had was Urahara's daily updates on his family and his friends, so he at least knew they were safe. The knowledge assured him that he made the right choice in leaving, no matter how much it hurt him in the end.

"Yeah." He was relieved that his voice was steady. "I did."

The past tense made Bruce turn pensive before he smiled lightly at him.

"Was she a better cook than you?"

Ichigo snorted at the question.

"Definitely. Her cooking's to die for." He confirmed with a bit of pride mixed in his tone. Bruce laughed, the atmosphere lifting at the sound.

"What were they like?" by this point, the man was folding his arms and leaning against the counter, attention riveted towards the conversation at hand.

Ichigo gave a sideways glance towards Bruce and only saw genuine curiosity on his face. Swallowing, he made sure to keep his hands busy as he talked about his family for the first time in months.

"Both of them are-_were_ fraternal twins and a few years younger than me. Yuzu was really sweet and basically mothered all of us. She always worried over me and Karin, seeing how our personalities were so similar. Karin was a lot like me. She was stubborn, headstrong, and got into fights more than I would've liked."

"Sounds like you alright." Bruce agreed with amusement. Ichigo scowled.

"There's a difference damn it. I did it because so many idiots assume I'm a hooligan or something when they see my hair. It's not my fault the color's damn natural." He grumbled. He lost count over how many times people made fun of his hair and how many teachers always nagged him to dye it since it's "not appropriate" for school.

Bruce frowned, looking displeased. "That's no reason to beat you up."

"Yeah, well, idiots are idiots. You just got to learn to deal with them. Besides," Ichigo shot a cocky smirk towards him. "They learned their lesson quickly, so it's nothing I can't handle."

Both groups learned to avoid him like the plague after he made it distinctly clear to not mess with him if they didn't want their asses kicked sky high. His reputation scared away most thugs, though the occasional idiot did attack him whether out of stupidity or pride. It never ended well for them.

Bruce still looked like he disapproved, but didn't comment any further on the issue, instead changing the subject.

"Did you manage to make friends despite this less than stellar reputation of yours?" Bruce said wryly. Ichigo smirk softened, eyes distant as memories of allies and friends alike came to mind, fighting side by side with him. Looking back to his current task, he sighed.

"The very best." He responded quietly, unable to completely hide the wistfulness he felt for those lost bonds.

Bruce didn't say anything after that, only the sound of sizzling rice and the wafting smell of mouthwatering food traveling through the air. Ichigo poured the rice in two bowls with spoons and slid the dish across the table to Bruce.

"Eat up before it gets cold." Ichigo practically ordered. Ichigo watched as Bruce took a tentative bite before he immediately moaned in pleasure. The sound made Ichigo grin in triumph.

"Jesus, what the hell did you put in this?" Bruce managed to say as he inhaled the food. Ichigo could barely decipher his words as Bruce began to hovel the food in his mouth, making him barely understandable. Ichigo went at a slower pace, savoring the tangy taste instead.

"What can I say, I'm a miracle worker." Ichigo joked. Bruce shook his head, swallowing down the rice before giving him an almost reverent look.

"Keep cooking like this and I just might be convinced of that."

"Well then," Ichigo spooned his food, tone nonchalant as he kept his eyes on Bruce. "I guess I'll have to stick around then."

The deliberate sentence made Bruce pause, gaze turning sharp as he gulped down the food in his mouth. Though he didn't tense, there was a contemplative look in his brown eyes, measuring the sincerity in his words. Gradually, he nodded, acceptance in his eyes that made Ichigo almost sag in relief.

"I suppose so." He said slowly, a small smile enlacing his mouth. Ichigo quirked up the end of his lip in response, the acknowledgement lifting some unknown weight off his chest.

For the first time since coming to this world, he didn't feel so alone anymore. And it was going to stay that way, damn everything else.

**~A~**

Ichigo strode down the path, having woken up again at an ungodly hour. The nightmares were becoming less frequent, but they still popped up from time to time. Hanging out with Bruce seemed to have helped, the occasional times he slept over at the man's room peaceful and dreamless. A small blessing since he didn't want to worry the man for something he could handle on his own.

Glancing around nonchalantly, he nearly paused in his stride when something caught his eye. A prickle of awareness tensed the back of his neck, but other than that, he didn't react. Without looking suspicious, his eyes swept over the scene to find someone that didn't fit. Right at the back of an alley, a man was clearly focusing his complete attention on Ichigo, his eyes sharp and always watching. He was talking to someone he could tell, his hand held up to his ear. Ichigo remembered vaguely from some spy movies of ear pieces and walkie talkies and involuntarily tensed at the thought.

Looks like he's finally been found. Inwardly cursing, he quickened his pace to where the coffee shop was and watched as the man discretely followed him at the corner of his eye. The spy, he assumed, didn't look at all out of place, his clothes and even his looks native. Whoever had sent him, they definitely were serious enough with their efforts. The thought made Ichigo scowl with displeasure.

Trying to act as casual as possible, he went in the shop and bought a coffee and biscuit, his attention always sharply following his shadow. At a brisk pace, he went back to the motel to his room and shoved the food in his mouth and quickly ate it along with the hot beverage, ignoring how the drink scalded his tongue. Cautious over the idea that he was still being watched, Ichigo sat cross-legged on the floor against his bed, immediately setting himself up in a meditative pose.

This wasn't the first time he's been in this position. He sometimes goes to his inner world to spar with Zangetsu or Shiro – mostly Shiro though since the hollow got bored easily and is always eager for a fight – or to simply have some quiet time to himself if he gets lost in his memories. Both spirits never bothered him during those periods of time, respecting his space or sometimes even joining him in his silent reverie, offering comfort in their own way.

This time though, he was planning something else entirely. Discreetly, he held the Shinigami badge from his pocket and pressed it to his chest, making sure the device was still in his pocket as he did. Immediately, he felt his soul jolt out of his now slumping mortal body. He steadied his lifeless body and propped it against the bed with eyes closed, hands still resting on its knees.

When he had first come to this world, he had thanked whatever merciful entity that existed that allowed him to still be able to turn in his Shinigami form. He also discovered that while people couldn't see him, they most certainly could touch him and hear him in this world unlike his own. Another thing he found out was how people seemed to be able to sense him, even though spiritual energy doesn't exist in this world (except Bruce of course). He was literally a phantom, a ghost in every sense of the word. He has become more careful due to this, as it would bring troublesome attention towards himself if people accidently bumped into him. That would not be a pretty scenario.

At least it improved his stealth skills, he thought dryly. God knows he didn't have any before.

Shaking his head, Ichigo leaped out of the open window and silently landed on the ground effortlessly, despite the fact it was two stories high. Stealthily, he stuck to the alleys as he searched for his target.

There. He saw the man go up to one of the markets, buying an apple from the vendor. Silently, he followed the man's trail as he walked towards a building a couple blocks away. As he watched the man go in, Ichigo concentrated his energy on his feet and jumped into the air. With little effort, he managed to steadily stay in the air even without reishi supporting him.

When he at first arrived in this world, he had experimented over his abilities to see how the lack of spiritual energy would affect him. Somehow, though he still wasn't exactly sure how, he was able to use his own reiatsu to sustain his own abilities. Due to the fact he has an overwhelming amount of energy within him, he was able to use his Shinigami powers, including the kido he has learned from Urahara, and hollow powers easily. However, his level of strength has depleted unfortunately, making his attacks weaker than before but nonetheless still powerful and destructive. Maybe it was due to the different laws of this world, but in the end, it didn't quite honestly matter too much to Ichigo. As long as he still had the ability to protect people, he didn't really worry about the hows and whys.

Getting closer to the window on the floor the man was in, he nearly snarled when he saw the impressive amount of equipment on the floor in the room. Just how long has he been watched without him noticing? At the back of his mind, he felt almost embarrassed from how long he hadn't detected someone tagging him. He'll never hear the end of it from Shiro now.

Shaking his head from his thoughts, he craned his ears to hear muffled words from inside the room. The spy seemed to be talking to someone, his voice stoic and professional.

"-bought coffee this morning. Nothing suspicious." The man reported. There was a pause before Ichigo watched the man jolt, his movement shuffling some of the technical gear. There was some surprise on the man's dark skinned face, his eyebrows raised. "You want me to pull out?"

Ichigo straightened immediately. What was that supposed to mean? He observed how the man's brows furrowed as he listened to whatever it was his superior was saying to him.

"He might fight back. He doesn't seem the type who'll come quietly."

Ichigo turned cold at these words. Fight back? Come quietly? His fists tightened as outrage raged in his chest. Like hell he'll let that happen. Closing his eyes to calm himself down, the raging feeling almost quieted until the man spoke his next words.

"And Banner sir?" there was a pause before the spy nodded curtly to himself. "Understood sir. I'll get right to it."

Ichigo processed those words before a gleam of protective rage glittered in his honey brown eyes. It didn't take a genius to guess that Banner was Bruce. Half tempted to just smash the window and demand answers from the man, he quickly landed on solid ground again before making his way towards his motel.

It was time to confront those bastards before it was too late. Nobody was going to even have the chance to touch Bruce. He'll make sure of that.

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><p><strong>Please review on the way out.<strong>


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